Is This Dejá Vu?
by bluesnowflake44
Summary: Ten years after they met, Casey is a successful journalist & Derek has just been fired. When she grudgingly agrees to let him move in with her, they realize that their relationship is not quite the same as it once was. Or was it that way all along? D/C
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I've been itching to write another Dasey fanfic, but I just couldn't find inspiration. And then I realized that I wanted to write a _future_ fic. So this is what came from that desire. Hope you enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter 1

"Right," Derek said as the movie credits rolled on the computer screen in front of him. "That's what I've got."

There was a pause as everyone in the editing room waited for his boss to speak. This was always the moment when Derek found his confidence at its lowest. Would Steve like his editing? If he didn't (and that did happen), things really became hell. But when Steve gave him the okay, Derek could never quite suppress the huge grin on his face. Steve was a harsh critic, even for a film director.

Derek waited, tapping his fingers on his desk (a nervous habit), before realizing what he was doing and stopping immediately. Steve liked silence, after all.

Finally, a small twitch twisted Steve's lips upwards. Derek's heart raced; he felt light-headed with anticipation. When the smile formed on his boss's face, relief swept through Derek's veins. _He's happy_, he thought. _This is it_.

"Venturi," Steve barked with glee, "I can finally do it."

This caught Derek off-guard. "Do… what?" Everyone in the room held their breaths.

"Fire your sorry ass," Steve replied with a sneer.

Derek practically choked. "_What?!_"

Steve looked down his nose at his movie editor. "Venturi, you've been a nuisance to this company since day one. Sure, you're a great editor. Sure, you've got a charming attitude." He paused.

"Then… what's the problem?" Derek couldn't help asking.

"The problem," Steve drawled, "is that you're too lazy. You're way past deadline, and I promised the company that we'd get it all together a week ago. Release date's this Friday, you know."

"Right… and today is Tuesday," Derek said.

"Ex-_actly_, Venturi." Steve's face was turning red by now. "That's in three god-damn days!"

Derek didn't know what to say. For once in his life, he was flabbergasted.

"But sir," he protested, feeling panicked that he even felt panicky in the first place. "You can't just _fire_ me! I've—I've got rent to pay, and Sheila's birthday—"

"I don't give a damn about your love life!" Steve bellowed, and Derek was taken aback at the man's sudden animosity. "You can tell Sheila that she should find a _real_ man who'll buy her flowers and chocolates and treat her right!"

Stunned into silence, Derek felt his mouth drop open. He'd always known that Steve had a bit of a thing for his girlfriend, Sheila (she was the production company's set designer; Derek had met her _through_ Steve, actually)… but he'd never considered that Steve was hung up on the woman. Did that mean that Steve's anger toward Derek was personal, then? If so… this was incredibly unfair.

"Look, Steve," Derek said, trying his best to stay calm. "If you have a problem with what I do in my personal life, then you should have spoken to me about it directly."

"I don't have a problem with anything except _you_. You're fired, Venturi. End of story." And with that, Steve stormed out.

For what felt like an eternity, everyone in the editing room stared at Derek. He felt his blood beating through his veins as he became angrier and angrier. He couldn't believe he'd just been fired. Sure, he took a few days longer to finish the project than he was supposed. He couldn't help it; he had a busy social life.

His thoughts turned to Sheila; at least he had her. She'd talk some sense into Steve. She'd always been there for him before. Derek knew she'd pull through again, as always, for him.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. "Derek, I'm so sorry, man." It was his work buddy, Nathan. "Steve was way out of line; he's obviously got a thing for your girl."

"Yeah," said his other friend, Ryan. "Dude's a prick. Worst boss ever." He paused, then added, "If you need anything…" Ryan meant well, but Derek could hear the wariness in his buddies' voices; they didn't actually want to have to help him out. They were trying to get by with a small enough pay roll as he'd been.

"Nah, don't worry about it, guys. I'll be fine."

Derek put his head in his hands, realization sinking in. He was unemployed now. Hopefully Steve would pay him through the end of the month; it would be cruel to think that this was his final day of both work _and_ pay.

Sighing, he stood up and gathered his few items up. He'd have to move out of his apartment now; there was no way in hell that he could afford rent without a job. He'd have to move into another pigsty apartment—the kind that he thought he'd finally escaped from when he'd been hired for _this_ job.

As he was riding the Subway on his way home, he wondered briefly if Sheila would agree to let him move in with her. She lived in an apartment nearby with her brother. But they'd only become official a few weeks ago, and Derek didn't want to scare her away. Plus, it might be incredibly awkward with her brother around….

"Hang on!" he mumbled to himself, an idea occurring to him. Sheila wasn't the only one with a sibling in Toronto! Well, the woman he had in mind wasn't exactly his sister, but… close enough, right?

For the first time that day, Derek felt a smile tug at his lips. He thought about the last time he'd seen his stepsister. It had been Easter; two months ago. Casey had just broken up with a boyfriend, so she had remained in tears (or close to them) the entire time, but she'd still managed to get under his skin with her perfectionist qualities.

Derek suppressed a snicker. Even after all these years, she still rubbed him the wrong way. But they'd grown to appreciate each other in the twelve years since they'd met, and Derek knew that Casey would cave eventually, even if he needed to give her a little shove in the right direction.

As his smile transformed into his trademark smirk, Derek realized that he felt better. Casey would help him out. She always did.

--------

"What do you want?" Casey snapped into the phone. It was cradled against her shoulder, seeing as her two hands were busy chopping the vegetables she'd bought at the local market. She had minestrone soup bubbling away on the stove pot in preparation for her third date with Tom, the man she'd met through Emily. Things had been going well; Tom loved cats (which was an admirable trait, although she was allergic). Tom was a vegetarian, although he did hate tofu. Tom was a doctor (very respectable). He and Emily were good friends (which was always a plus).

"Who says I want anything?" her stepbrother queried. She heard a bottle open on his end with a snap, and she huffed in annoyance.

"Are you drunk or something, Derek? Don't you have work tomorrow?"

There was a silence for a moment, and then Derek half-muttered, half-sighed, "I got fired."

"You _what?!_" Casey cried, almost cutting the tip of her finger off in her shock. "God, you didn't sleep with your boss's sister again, did you?"

"No!" Derek snapped. "Jesus, Casey, that was five years ago. I work for someone else now, remember?" There was a pause, and he added, sounding surprisingly glum, "Or at least, I _used_ to work for him. Steve. What a bastard."

Casey decided it would be a good time to put down the knife before she got too worked up (as often happened with _any_ conversation with this particular stepbrother). She wiped her hands on her apron and gave a mental sigh. Derek sounded genuinely upset, so she needed to be there for him. "Look, Derek, I'm really sorry about what happened, but you can't fall apart now. There's never been a more urgent time for you to remain calm and collected. If you're going to be able to pay your rent, you've got to—"

"I can't," came Derek's crestfallen voice. "Case, I'm behind a month already. I was barely making any money with my job as it was, but now that I'm—" He broke off abruptly.

Casey felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. He was really taking this hard. He'd been fired once before (after he'd "accidentally" broken the heart of his boss's sister, and his boss had found out), but that job had been relatively meaningless for him. Casey knew how much the film industry fascinated Derek; it was his passion, after all. She decided to cut him some slack.

"Fine, Derek. What do you need from me? Money? A sedative?" She chuckled to herself at the thought that she could probably bribe Tom for them. She had _connections_ now, she thought with glee.

"That's… not exactly what I had in mind," Derek said.

"Well? What then?" Casey knew she was being a bit insensitive, but Tom was coming over in less than half an hour, and the soup wasn't even ready yet.

"Look, this is a really, really big favor to ask you, but…"

"Just spit it out, Derek."

"Do you think—do you think I could move in with you for a little while? Only until I find another job, that is."

Casey was very glad that she'd set the knife down. If she hadn't, she might have sliced her entire arm off. "You want to _what_?" she finally choked out.

"I know it's a really huge favor, and of course I would repay you once I found a job, but I'm in a tight situation, Case, and I really don't know who else to turn to."

"But you—I—we—" Casey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then started again. "Why don't you ask Sherry, or whatever her name is? Isn't she supposed to be your _girlfriend_, after all?"

"It's Sheila. And yeah, she is," Derek replied, "But I—well, I really like her, and I don't want to rush things and freak her out." He sounded embarrassed to be admitting something like that. Casey didn't blame him; he hadn't had a steady girlfriend for a long time. This Sheila woman must be something special, if Derek cared so much about her.

It was this realization that finally made Casey relent. That, and the pitiful tone in her stepbrother's voice (well, pitiful for the mighty Derek Venturi). "Ok, Derek," she said at last, resuming her carrot-chopping, "I'm not completely opposed to the idea." He started to speak, but she cut him off, "Before you thank me, just know that we _will_ be meeting over coffee tomorrow, and you _will_ agree to a few terms and rules I set. Then, if you're willing to take it all seriously, you can thank me. Which you _will_ do."

Derek thanked her anyway, which she was vaguely pleased about. He'd done some growing up since high school. Sure, he was still obnoxious and a bit irresponsible at times, and he dated around a lot… but the jarring edges to him had softened a bit since the last time they'd lived together.

_…the last time they'd lived together._ At the thought, Casey gasped a little. "Oh my God," she mumbled into the phone.

"What?" Derek demanded. "Your goldfish die again?"

"No," she snapped (he always made fun of her for her strange inability to keep fish or plants alive), "I just realized—we might be living together again."

She could almost hear Derek's shrug. "So? It's not like we haven't done that before."

"I know, I know. That's the problem, Derek. Don't you remember what it was like? The absolute _hell_ you put me through? _What if we start fighting again_?" she almost whispered the last part. "I can't afford to get stressed out these days, not with the deadlines I have to meet at work—"

"Casey, you've always excelled at everything you do," Derek reassured her impatiently. "Your boss _adores_ you. You have a steady group of girlfriends who love you. You're well on your way to the suburban, picket-fence, 2.5 kids and a dog lifestyle." He snickered. "All you're missing is the rich husband."

"Well, actually, there's this guy…" Casey began, then gasped. "Oh GOD! Tom!"

The phone dropped from her shoulder and landed on the kitchen counter with a thud.

"Casey? You there?" Derek's voice came faintly from the receiver. "And who's Tom?"

Casey was scrambling to stir the soup, slip on her high heels, and give the counters another swipe with the sponge… all at the same time.

"CASEY!" the voice bellowed from the phone again. Casey remembered that her stepbrother was still on the line. She considered telling him to let her think things over, but she couldn't do that to him, not when he'd just been fired. So she snatched the phone back up and said, "Listen, I've got a date tonight. Can we meet for coffee tomorrow at 8:30 in the Moonshine Café?"

"You mean 8:30 at _night_, right?" Derek sounded alarmed at the thought of waking up at such an "early" hour.

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow _morning_. Good night, Derek." Casey clicked the phone off and sighed, Derek's voice still ringing in her ears.

She returned to getting ready and wondered if Tom liked wine. She sure could use a glass. Scrunching up her mouth, she eyed the little-used liquor cabinet. Or better yet, a shot of vodka.

* * *

A/N: That's chapter 1! Let me know what you think. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Tap, tap, tap_. Casey fidgeted as she waited for Derek, tapping her foot against the table leg. She was seated in the Moonshine Café (her favorite locale), checking her cell phone every twenty seconds to see if she'd gotten a text from Derek. He was already five minutes late; the only decent thing to do would be to alert her. But this was Derek, so she simply waited, rolling her eyes, and continued fidgeting.

At 8:40, Casey huffed (for the millionth time) and decided to get in line for her drink. She'd been planning on waiting for Derek to show before ordering anything, but she was a bit short on time. She approached the counter, hands already holding the correct change for her drink.

"What can I get you today, Casey?" asked the familiar barista, a friendly woman in her early thirties. "The usual? Tall, non-fat, no-foam, sugar-free vanilla latte?"

Casey started to nod, but then paused. "Actually… no. I'll take a tall mocha please."

The barista looked scandalized. "Do—do you want whip on that?" she asked with trepidation.

"Yes, please." Casey ignored the shock on the barista's open face. She was meeting with Derek this morning. It could only go badly… or at the very least, she would leave for work in a bad mood. The mocha would help ease any frazzled nerves she had by the meeting's end; Casey was just thinking ahead.

"That—that'll be three dollars, sixty cents, please," the barista replied quickly, as if in fear for her life. _Oh for God's sake_, Casey thought, _I'm not __**that**__ predictable!_

She started to pay, but a sudden hand on her arm stopped her. "Let me," a suave voice from behind her said.

Even if Casey hadn't recognized Derek's voice, she would have guessed it was him by the barista's response. The lady froze, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks and a demure smile tugging at her mouth. "Oh!" she exclaimed, chuckling softly, "Thank you, sir."

"Yeah, thanks, Derek," Casey drawled, ruining the moment and bringing the barista out of her reverie. "It's the least you could do after being fifteen minutes—"

As she turned to glare at him, her sentence died on her lips. Derek looked different. _Really_ different. He hadn't shaved for a few days, his hair was extra-shaggy, and he was wearing a brown t-shirt and sweats. It looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed. Which he probably had.

Casey continued to stare as Derek collected his change. It didn't seem to matter how cavalier he was with his appearance; he always got female attention. She begrudged him his luck of always looking good. _Some_ people actually had to put in a little effort. It just wasn't fair! But then, living with Derek Venturi had taught her about fairness long ago.

"Morning to you, too," Derek greeted her with a smile. "How are you today, my dear?" He held her drink out to her.

"Cut the crap," snapped Casey, snatching the mocha up and taking a huge gulp; she needed her chocolate fix _now_. "Come on, I've got a table over there by the window."

Derek feigned a hurt look, pressing his fingers to his chest. "Casey! I'm shocked. Don't you appreciate my gentlemanly behavior?"

"No," she hissed. "Now sit down before I change my mind about this whole thing."

"All righty," he replied with a jovial grin as they sat at the table. This was annoying. Derek wasn't allowed to be cheerful now. She pressed her fingers to her temples and closed her eyes.

"Hung over?" Derek asked her, a half-smile playing on his mouth.

Casey snapped her head up, shocked. "Of course not, Derek! I have work today, you know! In… 45 minutes!" She sighed and pulled out her notepad. "Now, I've outlined a few rules that I expect you to follow."

She flipped to the first page and was about to start reading them when Derek snatched the notepad out of her hands. "Jesus, Casey!" He flipped to the second and third pages. "This is insane!"

"It's not insane," she seethed. "It's reasonable."

"There are 50 rules on this list."

"And they're 50 reasonable requirements if you want to live with me."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Rule number 28: Absolute silence after 9pm." He shook his head. "These aren't reasonable; they're restrictive. I didn't think you were a prison warden!" He rolled his eyes and mumbled darkly, "Apparently I was wrong."

Casey's eyes flashed. "Rule number 51: _Shave regularly_!" she snapped. "And if you have a problem with the others, you can just find business elsewhere!"

Derek rubbed at his chin self-consciously. "It's been a few days since I've shaved, I guess. That bad?"

_No_, Casey thought, but she figured it wouldn't be wise to say so. She didn't want his current devil-may-care look to transform into the lazy behavior of a slob (_or at least, more of a slob than his usual self_). So instead, she said, "I don't have time to discuss the fine details of my rules, Derek. Are you willing to follow them or not?" She tapped her foot against the table leg again, getting impatient. "My work starts soon, I don't want to be late."

Derek gawked at her. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"Completely." She waited a moment, then added, "Do you want to read over the rules before you sign your name?"

"Sign?" Derek cried. "You want me to _sign_ this stupid thing?" At the look on her face he held up his hands in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it. Sure, I'll read them." He lowered his eyes to the yellow notepad pages in front of him.

Casey took this moment to study him more fully. She had to admit: he _did_ look good, even in his scruffy state. The stubble gave him that cheeky appearance of a guy who knows that he's in control of how he looks, and doesn't give a damn about proper preening. Derek's hair was long, but not any longer than his latter days of high school. When they'd last seen each other at Easter, his hair had been a lot shorter. She found herself thinking that she preferred it this longer way. And the brown of his t-shirt brought out the red highlights of its auburn color. And speaking of his torso….

"Right," Derek said at last, looking up. Hastily, Casey shifted her eyes away from him and focused on the yellow notepad instead. She wondered if he'd noticed her checking him out. _Wait,_ she corrected herself, _I wasn't "checking him out." Just observing his current state of dress._ Hopefully he didn't think she was admiring him or anything. That would be awkward.

If Derek had seen where her gaze had been, he didn't mention it (and she was grateful). Maybe he knew he was already on thin ice as it was with his behavior. She had the advantage after all, doing him this huge favor. The thought almost brought a smirk to her lips.

"So what do you think?" she asked after a moment's pause, lifting her eyes to meet his.

Derek thought for a moment, sipping his Americano. "Well… some of those rules are pretty rigid," he said at last. "I mean, I can't guarantee that I'll be on my 'best behavior' whenever Todd is around." He paused and winked at her. "Old habits die hard, or so they say."

Casey opened her mouth to berate him, but he held up a hand, chuckling. "Relax; I'm just messing with you, Casey." When she crossed her arms and glared at him, he only laughed harder. "But in all seriousness—"

"—Are you capable of such a state of mind?" Casey muttered darkly.

Derek must have chosen to ignore this statement, because he continued as though she hadn't spoken. "—I appreciate your helping me out. I'll sign your little form, if you really want." He reached for the pen and scrawled his signature on the last page. "But," he added, "I think we can agree on a change or two to your rules." He squinted at rule #1. "I mean, really. '_No pranks_?' What kind of stepbrother would I be if I didn't at least test the waters once or twice?"

"Very funny, Venturi," Casey growled, snatching the form away from him. "We're not fifteen years old anymore, though, in case you've forgotten."

"I seem to remember pranking you up until we left for college." He paused, smirking to himself at some distant memory. "And even at Queen's… there was that time I strung your underwear up in your Women's Lit classroom! Remember that?"

Casey blushed. "I try not to." She quickly took another swig of her mocha, praying that the chocolate would start easing her troubles. She hoped she wasn't making a huge mistake in letting Derek move in with her. "And you _better_ be nice to Tom, or any other man that visits me."

Laughing, Derek waved a hand in dismissal. "Sure, sure, sure. Whatever you say, Princess." He threw back the rest of his Americano in one big gulp. "So do you want to help me move my stuff in to your place later? After your work?"

Casey blinked at him. "Why would I _ever_ want to do that?"

"Because I'm your favorite stepbrother?"

"Hmmm… nope. Sorry. You can do it yourself. Bring it all over at 4:30; I won't be back from work until then." Casey stood up and started heading for the door. Derek followed at her heels, like some big annoying puppy that never let its master alone.

"Awesome," he said as they exited, standing on the sidewalk outside the café. Casey gave him a tight smile (she was still feeling quite wary about the whole thing). Unsure of how to bid him goodbye, she held out her hand for him to shake. Derek raised an eyebrow, looking very amused, but he shook her hand. Casey was pleased at his maturity (she'd half-expected him to shock her with a buzzer hidden between his fingers). But just as she released his hand and moved to leave, he pinched her cheek as if she was a little girl. "See you, Casey," he said, grinning, and turned around, strolling down the street as if he had all the time in the world. Casey stared after him and rubbed her cheek, telling herself that the tingly feeling there was due to the pain of his pinch, and absolutely nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It means a lot to me to hear back from you. :) Just a note--this chapter has spoilers for the last Life With Derek episode (or two).

* * *

Chapter 3

"I just don't know, Derek," said Sheila, her voice wavering with uncertainty. She stirred the mug of tea in front of her and sighed.

"Sheila, I don't have a job. What am I supposed to do?" Derek ran a hand through his unruly hair as he paced back and forth in her tiny kitchen. "I can't afford my rent at the current place I'm living as it is. And Casey's willing to let me crash at her place for free."

"It's a generous offer, I must admit," his girlfriend said. "Which is why I'm concerned."

"Concerned?" Derek furrowed his eyebrows. "That makes no sense."

"I know. I just—" Sheila frowned, not meeting his eyes. "This is going to sound really stupid."

"No it won't," Derek consoled her. "Well, maybe it will." He shot her a teasing smile. "But you should say it anyway."

She hesitated a moment more, then said, "Well, it's just that you're going to be living with her for an indefinite period of time. And…" Sheila blushed, looking very hesitant to continue. After a sigh and a moment's pause, she continued, "She's—well, she's gorgeous, Derek. Tell me you haven't noticed."

Derek stared into Sheila's hazel eyes. This had not been the response that he'd expected. At all. "She's my stepsister, Sheila," he said after a brief pause. "We lived in the same house, shared the same parents. We share a brother for God's sake."

"You still didn't answer my question."

Derek swallowed and sat down at the small table next to Sheila. He took her hand in his own and gazed right into her eyes. "Listen, Sheila. No one will ever be as pretty as you are to me. You know that, right?"

Sheila wouldn't meet his eyes. "So you have noticed then?"

Derek groaned. He couldn't outright deny it; of course he'd noticed. It had been hard _not_ to. He tried to be dismissive as he said, "Sure, she's pretty. But there's nothing for you to worry about. We don't see each other that way. Never have."

It was a tiny white lie, of course. But Sheila didn't have to know that. Besides, any attraction he'd once felt for Casey had ended that fateful night. His high school graduation. He still shuddered sometimes at the way the conversation had panned out. Casey saw him as a brother. Always had, always would. So he'd sucked it up and moved on. End of story. And now he had Sheila, the beautiful brunette with a pixie cut and an artist's hand.

Derek could never actually _tell_ Sheila these things, but something in his eyes must have convinced her of the truth behind his words. She smiled at him with her small, red mouth. "All right," she said, ruffling his hair.

"Hey!" he cried, swatting her hands away. "Do you know how long it takes me each morning to get it looking so good?"

She just laughed.

Derek's cell phone rang.

He answered it. "It's 4:45," growled the voice on the other end. "Where the hell are you?" A huff followed this statement, and Casey started speaking again, but Derek quickly cut her off.

"Relax," he told Casey. "I'll be there in ten minutes. I've already got everything in my car."

Sheila had stopped smiling. Or at least, her smile looked forced. Derek groaned to himself; she must have guessed who it was. She didn't understand that Casey's plaguing him with phone calls meant _nothing_. It was just his stepsister's weird obsession with punctuality.

When he'd hung up the phone, Derek leaned over and kissed his girlfriend's cheek. "I'll call you tonight, ok?" he told her, giving her his warmest smile. She broke into one herself, and bid him goodbye.

As Derek got into the car, he saw that he had two missed texts in the five minutes since he'd hung up his cell phone: _Hurry up, D_ and _This is NOT a good way to start our living together, I'll have you know!_ Derek felt a small smile form on his face as he finished reading them. The tiny twinge of excitement at the pit of his stomach was a little harder to repress now, but he managed it fairly easily. He snapped his phone shut and started the car.

"Der, wait!" a voice called. Derek looked up from where he'd been fiddling with the radio and saw Sheila running toward the car, her vintage purse slung haphazardly over her shoulder. He rolled down the window to see what she wanted, but she didn't stop; she kept jogging until she'd reached the passenger's seat. As she slid in, she shifted some of his posters around carefully and flashed him a smile.

"Tagging along?" he asked her. She nodded and he smiled, telling himself that his disappointment was simply due to the fact that—that—hell, he didn't even have an excuse.

And that was what scared him.

--------

Derek didn't even ring the doorbell.

Casey pressed her lips together as she glanced up from her novel. She glanced at her watch; he was almost 25 minutes late. She opened her mouth to make some quip about his tardiness when she saw that a young woman had followed him into her apartment. It must be his girlfriend, Sherry or whatever her name was. Casey hid a grimace; she hoped he introduced them so she could finally figure it out.

"Hi, Case," Derek's voice said, his head concealed behind a large box. "Give me a hand with this."

"Derek!" his girlfriend admonished. She rolled her eyes at Casey and went to help him herself. "Show your sister some respect."

"Step," corrected Casey automatically. Having gone over to grab one of the other boxes that his girlfriend had set on the entryway table, Casey decided to take this moment to get a better look at her. The girl was quite pretty, with short, dark hair styled in spikes. Her clothes looked comfortable, but they had that classy vintage look to them. The girl was quite tall; taller even than Casey. She flashed a smile at Casey, who blinked and realized that she'd been staring at her.

"Hi, I don't know if we've officially met," she said. "And since your, uh, _step_brother seems to have left his manners in one of the boxes in the car, I'll just introduce myself." She held out her hand and Casey noticed that it was dyed with lots of bright colors. "I'm Sheila."

"Casey. Do you work with art?"

"Yes I do. Watercolors and acrylics to be exact. I'm an art teacher at a nearby high school. But I try to paint on my own time, too." Sheila paused and added, "Your place is lovely. I think we have a similar style."

Casey smiled. She did think that Sheila's clothing was cute. "I think you're right."

"So, ladies," Derek said, appearing with another box in tow, "sorry to interrupt this thrilling conversation, but—" he shifted the box as it started slipping from his hands. "Help!"

Casey, being closer, lurched to grab one of the ends, but she only managed to trip over her own shoe (which she was wearing… only _she_ could do something so embarrassing) and ended up smacking into Derek. He stumbled back himself and would have fallen if the wall hadn't caught him.

"See?" he griped at his girlfriend after he'd righted himself and set the box down, "I told you. She hates me. Tried to kill me before I'd even completely moved in."

"Ha ha," Casey said, hoping that her blush wasn't too strong. She wondered what he meant by the 'I told you' part. Had they talked about her beforehand? The thought sent her pulse into a slight frenzy. How _utterly_ embarrassing! Derek had probably told Sheila what a klutz she was! Casey bent her head and pretended to look through Derek's box.

He smacked her hand away. "Cut it out, Klutzilla," he said, embarrassing her even further with the old nickname. "My stuff's private."

Casey rolled her eyes and smacked his hand right back. "I'm the one who's letting you crash here… you should be worshipping me. Not calling me names!"

Sheila chuckled, although Casey thought it sounded a little odd, as though she was forcing it. "You two—arguing like a married couple." Her voice had quavered at the word 'couple' and Casey raised her eyebrows.

"We're as far from a married couple as Derek is from cleanliness," Casey scoffed, although she could feel her blush deepen.

"Yeah, as far from it as Casey is from sanity," Derek added with a sidelong smirk in her direction. Casey was annoyed to see that _he_ wasn't blushing.

Sheila laughed again, although it sounded even more nervous. "Derek's not _that_ dirty," she said, "and Casey seems pretty sane to me."

"You don't know him," Casey said, at the same time as Derek said, "You don't know her." They exchanged glances, eyebrows raised, then turned back to Sheila.

Who looked close to tears.

Casey opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, and offer her a cup of tea, but the taller woman sniffled, "Derek? Can I talk to you outside for a moment, please?" before Casey could even get a word out.

Derek shifted his feet, looking slightly wary. With a hidden feeling of triumph, Casey saw that a faint blush had stolen across his cheeks. _Finally_, she thought.

"Uh, sure," he told his girlfriend, and they headed for the door. He cast Casey a quick, apologetic glance over his shoulder before he closed the door. Practically in her face.

Casey pressed her lips together, feeling irked. She didn't much care for that Sheila girl, even if she was nice enough and had cute clothes. She seemed… paranoid or something. Not really Derek's type, in any way. And she _obviously_ didn't understand him, if she thought that he was a clean person. Casey had seen his old apartment; it had been as much of a pigsty as it had been in their high school and college years together. Unless Sheila had worked a miracle, Casey imagined that _she_ knew Derek a teensy bit better than a girlfriend of a mere two months.

She was about to put the teakettle on when she heard a loud, feminine voice cry, "You're just too in sync! I don't know if I'm comfortable with this."

Casey froze; her feet were stuck to the floor and wouldn't have moved her even if she'd wanted them to. She listened closely.

"Shhh!" Derek's voice hissed. Casey, to her dismay, felt her feet start moving, but a moment later she realized that they'd carried her to the door so that she could hear better. _Good feet_, she told them. "Sheila, I already told you a hundred times, there is _nothing_ between us. We're just…"

"Just friends?" Sheila quipped with sarcasm. "I've heard that one before, Derek."

He sighed in exasperation. "Not even friends. We're…"

"Practically related?" Sheila's voice had risen again. "Didn't seem like she thought of you in that way."

"What?" Derek hissed, at the same time that Casey thought it.

"She seemed really self-conscious around you. I think she finds you—"

"Oh, you wouldn't dare," Casey muttered darkly under her breath, ear pressed completely against the door.

"—attractive," Sheila finished. Casey gasped, scowling, and feeling her face heat up with what she could only guess was anger.

"WHAT?" Derek yelled, only to be shushed by his girlfriend. Casey rolled her eyes; as if Sheila hadn't been loud herself. "That's ridiculous," Derek snapped, but with less gusto this time. "She sees me as a brother."

Casey was taken aback. _No, I don't_, she thought with confusion.

"She told me so herself, on our graduation night. I—I agreed with her."

Casey's pulse quickened; she remembered that night. It had been an awkward moment between them, but not in a bad way. She'd even thought for one brief moment that Derek had considered kissing her. She remembered hoping that he would, despite her insistence that stepbrothers were the same as brothers. Casey cringed, remembering the look on his face when she'd said that. It was obvious, even to her 18-year-old self, that they had to maintain a strictly platonic relationship, despite any—.

She shook her head and rubbed her temples, backing away from the door. This was such a bad idea. She never should have agreed to have Derek live with her again, especially since his paranoid girlfriend suddenly didn't seem so paranoid anymore. Casey back away from the door and ran, trippingly, into the kitchen to prepare some tea. "This is not good," she whispered to herself after a moment.

"What's not good?" Derek's voice asked from behind her. Casey yelped and dropped the teakettle on her toe.

"OW! DAMMIT!" She hopped over to where it had landed and bent to pick it up, but Derek had beaten her to it. He set it on the stove and turned the knob to start heating it up.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, looking weary. It wasn't a look she normally saw on him.

"Where's Sheila?" Casey asked, avoiding his question.

Derek only gave her a brief stare, as if he knew that she was evading giving him an answer, but then he replied, "She left." Casey waited for him to say more, but when he didn't, she knew that he was playing the same game she was: evading the question.

Still, Casey felt a sense of relief at this idea. "Oh," she said, hiding her happiness as best she could, "I thought she'd want some tea. She didn't say goodbye…."

"Yeah, she realized that she had an appointment with one of her students soon, so she had to run. Took my car, actually." He gave Casey a half-smile. "I'll have to have you do me another favor, unfortunately, and drive me to my place later so I can get it back."

"Are you ok?" Casey blurted out suddenly. _Shit_, she thought, _What is __**wrong**__with me?_

Derek looked a bit taken aback by her question, but he replied, "Uh, yeah. She really did have an appointment…" He didn't sound too convincing.

"Derek," Casey said, sitting on a nearby stool. She patted one next to her for him to sit down on, which he did. "You two are ok with—with this?" she gestured between them and then around the apartment.

"With us living together?" Derek asked, knowing what she meant with her crazy hand motions. He paused, casting his eyes down at the floor. "I don't know, to tell you the truth." She raised her eyebrows, and he quickly added, "I mean, _I'm_ fine with it, but Sheila thinks—" He gave a nervous laugh, rather like the one that Sheila had given earlier. "She thinks—"

"That we're—?" Casey asked, knowing what _he_ meant with his crazy half-sentences.

"Yeah."

Casey found herself smiling. Not a grin or a smirk, just a tiny twinge of the mouth. She wondered why, and suppressed it. They sat in silence for a beat, and Derek opened his mouth to speak, but the kettle started whistling.

Casey jumped up, placing her hand on Derek's shoulder as she passed him to regain the balance she'd lost from being so quick. When she lifted her hand, she found that she could still feel the texture of his wool sweater on her fingers. She wiped her hand on her jeans, but the feeling stayed.

"Tea?" she asked him, turning around, and saw that he had been staring off into space. Her question snapped him out of his thoughts—whatever they were—and he stammered, "Uh, no thanks, Case. I—I think I'm going to do some unpacking." He smiled at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks again for letting me crash here."

"You are still crashing, right?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah," he said, standing up and grabbing a box to carry into the extra bedroom.

Casey wondered what had gone on between him and his girlfriend after she'd run off to the kitchen. She sighed, and poured herself a cup of chamomile. She needed something soothing. She needed to reassure herself that this wasn't one big mistake.

* * *

A/N: Please review! I love hearing back from you all! :D


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: Wow, that was a bit of a hiatus, there, wasn't it? Sorry, my lovely readers! My summer job is over now, so I will definitely have more time to work on this story. :)

* * *

Chapter 4

_Beep, beep, beep_. Casey groaned and rolled over to hit her alarm clock. It was Saturday morning, so she should have felt more rested, but she didn't. Sleep had evaded her after last night, what with Derek moving in and—

Casey sat bolt upright. Derek… moving in…. He was here, in her apartment! She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, leapt out of bed at lightning speed and ran a brush through her hair. She checked her appearance in the mirror. A young woman stared back at her, looking slightly disgruntled and tired, but otherwise presentable. Casey straightened her grey t-shirt and plaid shorts, and slid a yellow robe on over her pajamas. "Good enough," she told her reflection, and exited the bedroom, entering the living area.

Derek was nowhere to be seen. Casey swallowed. He must still be asleep. She peered in the direction of the guest bedroom; the door was closed and the light was off. Sighing in relief, Casey darted to the bathroom and jumped in the shower. The warm water relaxed her, and soon the tension had faded from her muscles. She sighed, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around herself. She had just squeezed the extra water from her hair when someone—Derek—knocked on the bathroom door.

Casey froze, her heartbeat quickening as blood pounded in her head. It wasn't like she had never lived with Derek before. Still, it was different somehow this time around. When they'd been in high school, they hadn't had to deal with jealous girlfriends accusing them of being attracted to each other. Life with Derek had been so much easier back then. Casey shook her head and focused on the present.

"Um, one moment!" she called, scrambling to search for her things, then realizing that she'd left her clothes in her room.

"Hurry up, Case!" Derek grumbled from behind the door. "I gotta pee!"

Casey rolled her eyes and resorted to just throwing on her yellow robe. It was rather short, going to her mid-thighs; still, it was longer than her pajama shorts were.

She emerged from the shower, letting steam billow out around the tall form of her stepbrother. He shoved past her as if nothing had changed in the ten years since they'd last lived together. "Took you long enough, Princess," he said.

"You barely gave me any time to get my robe on!" Casey snapped back.

"Oh?" Derek raised an eyebrow at her, his infamous smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, you didn't have to put it on my account. A towel would have been just fine."

"You—you—you _oaf_!" Casey cried, blushing.

Derek blinked at her, all traces of the smirk gone. "Why, whatever are you talking about, dear sis?" he asked, all innocence. "You've developed into a bit of a perv since we last lived together…."

Casey slammed the door in his face before he could notice her blush.

-----------

"Seven o'clock, sounds perfect," Casey's voice said from the living room of the apartment. Derek's ears perked up from where he was reading a sports magazine on his bed. A twinge in his gut alerted him to his eagerness to find out more, so he hoisted himself off the bed with ease and sauntered out to the common area.

"Ok, yeah, that sounds great!" Casey nodded, the phone receiver clutched to her chin as she peeled an orange. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tom!" She hung up her cell phone, a small furrow between her eyebrows.

"Got a date with Dr. Dreamy?"

Casey jumped and the orange flung out of her hands and landed on the floor. "Derek!" she cried. "Now I've got to throw this delicious orange out!"

He rolled his eyes. "Ten second rule. You've still got three left to get it off the floor."

Casey huffed. "That is disgusting." But she bent down nonetheless to retrieve the fruit, and Derek found himself with a lovely, _lovely_ view of her butt. He tried not to ogle it, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"There's a bit of dirt on it," her voice said, "and that can only mean one thing." Derek blinked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.

"You're more of a slob than we thought?"

"_NO._" Casey straightened and shot a look of annoyance at him. "It means that _you're_ the one who's tracking dirt in. Clean it up." She shoved the orange under his nose and pointed at an invisible speck.

"Hmmm, nope. Not gonna happen."

"Derek! Rule number 12 specifically states—"

He held up his hands in mock fear. "All right, all right. I'll clean the kitchen floor… but only if you agree to drive me to Sheila's place so I can get my car."

Casey pressed her lips together. "Fine." As Derek turned around to find some sort of cleaning product, he heard her shrill cry, "But the floor better be close to perfect!"

----------

Casey pulled up to the curb and stopped the car engine. Her pulse had gradually quickened throughout the entire ride over to Sheila's, and she had no idea why.

Ok, that was a lie. She had a hunch. A hunch involving Derek. But she typically suppressed hunches like _that_.

Casting a sidelong glance at Derek, she was surprised to see a frown between his brows. She turned to face him, about to speak, when the expression on his face stopped her. He looks so… resolved and somber. So instead she studied his profile, the way panes on his face cast shadows across his skin. The way his hair curled around his ears. God, but he was beautiful.

Panic surged through her veins and rekindled the rapid heartbeat that had just slowed as she studied her stepbrother. Any thoughts about beauty and _Derek_ had to be repressed. Just like the hunches that involved his girlfriend and jealousy and _her_.

"I guess I'll go face the music," Derek muttered, almost to himself. He turned to look at her, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Why are you with Sheila?" Casey blurted out, and could have kicked herself. "I, uh, that is—Oh, dammit." She looked away, trying not to hyperventilate.

After a brief moment of silence that Casey dubbed as the longest moment of silence in her life to date, Derek spoke. She expected him to make fun of her, or worse, make some snide comment about her being attracted to him. What he said surprised her.

"I—I don't know."

It was his tone of voice that caused her to look up at him. It sounded so open and honest; something that Derek didn't exactly have the best record with.

Her eyes met his, and she felt a dizzying jolt rush through her body, like she was suspended in midair and had suddenly started to fall at an alarming rate.

"You—you don't?" she repeated stupidly. Her pulse hummed as his eyes dropped to stare intently at her mouth.

With calm deliberation he said, "No," and Casey found her own gaze redirected to his mouth as he spoke. She felt her lips parting, felt Derek lean in a fraction of an inch, when a distant front door slammed and Casey jerked away from him, struggling to open the car door and realizing that her seatbelt was still on, and—

She took a deep breath.

She didn't dare look at Derek as she finally exited the car.

-----------

Sheila opened the door almost immediately when Casey rang the doorbell. "Oh, you," she said dismissively. "Where's my boyfriend?"

Although Casey prickled at Sheila's attitude toward her, she forced a smile. "He's waiting in the car, I guess."

"Did something happen?" Sheila demanded, the start of a scowl marring her sweet face.

"What? Nothing happened!" Casey replied, mentally cringing at how shrill she sounded. She cleared her throat. "Why would you ask that?"

Sheila just stared at her. "I meant, did something happen to Derek that made him incapable of talking to me himself?"

Casey laughed. It was an awkward reaction, and she actually _did_ cringe this time. "Um, I don't know." She had a hunch, but she was _really_ trying to ignore her stupid hunches.

"Well, come get a cup of tea and tell me about it."

Casey blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Come inside." Sheila ushered her inside the apartment.

It was just as artsy as Casey had imagined it to look. Although small, the apartment held a great deal of personal charm, mostly due to the large canvas paintings adorning almost all the wall space. They were gorgeous.

"Is this your work?" Casey asked. "It's very lovely."

"Thank you." Sheila patted a chair. "Please, sit."

"Ok…" Casey sat, but she refused to keep the trepidation out of her voice. This was weird.

"Listen, I'm going to be direct and to the point, since I know you must have a lot going on. God knows that my brother, Tom, and I do." She took a deep breath and said, "Are you in love with Derek?"

Casey just stared at the older woman. Her mouth fell open slightly, but she showed no other emotion. She couldn't help it. The accusation was just so… ridiculous.

"Is that why you left in a hurry yesterday?" Casey finally asked. "You're threatened by my relationship with my stepbrother?"

"Something like that." Sheila laughed, although it sounded tense. "I know I'm being ridiculous, but I have to know. I'm sorry to put you through this."

"Well, I'm not. So you don't have to worry."

"You have feelings for him, though?"

_Oh my God, this woman will NOT give up_, Casey thought to herself. Out loud, she replied, "None whatsoever. He's my brother, always has been, always will be."

Sheila continued to stare at Casey, who met her gaze with her chin up. She wouldn't let this woman win. Even if Casey had no idea what the battle was for.

"Ok, I believe you," Sheila replied, and Casey's stomach fell. _What is wrong with me?_ she wondered to herself.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Derek's voice said from the doorway, and both Sheila and Casey jumped.

"Nothing, nothing, sweetie!" chirped Sheila with a little too much enthusiasm. She leapt to her feet and rushed at him, trapping him with her arms and pressing her mouth against his in a passionate kiss.

Derek was obviously taken aback. Casey felt a sense of satisfaction at his hesitation, at the awkward fit of his hands on her back, at the stiffness of his kiss. She thought back to Sheila's question, _Are you in love with Derek?_ and Casey's own dishonest answer.

She hadn't told a boldface lie. The truth was that she just didn't know.

* * *

**A/N**: I dedicate this chapter to LaFolie, who reminded me that I had a Dasey story lurking around that needed to be finished. Thanks for reminding me! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**:Thanks for your reviews! I really appreciate it. :)

* * *

Chapter 5

"Still behaving like a keener, even on the weekend, huh?"

Casey looked up from the book she'd been reading for work. Derek stood leaning on the kitchen counter, drinking from a beer can. It was the next evening, and Casey sighed in relief that it was a Saturday and she hadn't had to go to work that day.

She gave an even bigger, mental sigh that she'd managed to survive the previous encounter with Derek's girlfriend. She shuddered at the way Sheila had thrown herself over Derek all evening. It had been rather disgusting to watch. Casey wouldn't let herself analyze it beyond that (although this was easier said than done).

"I am _not_ a keener. I'm just—driven. Responsible. Professional."

"You forgot neurotic," Derek added.

Casey gasped in irritation and leapt up from her seat, forgetting all about her work. "I am _not_ neurotic. That would be _you_."

Derek just laughed. "How am _I_ neurotic?" He pushed himself off the counter and faced her.

"You were always obsessed with me in high school. It was immature and obnoxious" Casey said it dismissively, and it took her a moment to comprehend the startled look on her stepbrother's face. His eyes grew wide and some of the color drained from his flushed cheeks.

"Um… well…" Casey stammered, suddenly understanding the reason behind his reaction. "I meant that you were always obsessed with _pranking_ me."

"Right…" Derek said after a moment, a deep flush of color on his cheeks once more. "And _you_ were always obsessed with ruining my life."

Casey placed her hands on her hips. "What! And how exactly did I try to ruin _your_ life? You're the one who made my every moment a living disaster!"

"And _you_ made my life hell with your neuroticism."

"That's not even a word!" Casey shrieked, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

"Yes, it is!" Derek snarled. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am, McDonald."

Tension crackled in the air between them. Casey had a feeling that neither she nor Derek truly knew what was bothering them so much. They hadn't argued like this since high school. Even at college they'd been decent enough to each other. Sure, Derek teased her mercilessly and pulled the occasional prank, but they hadn't had a screaming match since the first year of living together.

"Look," Casey said at last, "I think you just need to calm down—"

"You're the one who's yelling!" Derek cried, throwing his hands up in frustration. He turned away from her and took a gulp from his beer can.

"Stop drinking that vile stuff!" Casey berated. "It's a disgusting habit."

"Oh, really?" Derek glared her down, his eyes snapping. "That's rich coming from the woman who keeps a bottle of vodka hidden behind her china!"

Casey's voice dripped with sarcasm, "I keep it in reserve in case a jackass like you brings out the neurotic in me."

Opening his mouth to protest, Derek paused and ended up just staring at her for a moment. The silence continued for a beat, two, three… Casey felt her chest rising and falling as if she'd ran a race, and her nerves trembled from the tense pressure crackling between them. As her eyes lifted to meet Derek's, she inhaled a breath at the impassioned emotion poised within them. She opened her mouth to speak, but Derek beat her to it.

"I'm going to pour us some drinks."

Blinking, Casey frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Derek was already opening the cabinet and pulling out the vodka. "I think we both need a serious drink."

"But… but…"

Derek sighed in exasperation. "Listen, this little thing between us just now? Yeah, it was pretty tense (mostly due to your presence). I think a good old fashioned remedy is the best way for us to chill."

Casey watched him quietly as he poured a shot of vodka for her, and then one for himself. He tipped his head back and drank his own shot, then poured another.

"Here," he said, handing her the glass. Casey just stared at it. "You're supposed to drink it," Derek told her, "as in, ingest it."

"I know what drinking means," Casey insisted.

Derek smirked. "Apparently not."

Glaring at him, Casey took the shot. And proceeded to hack and cough at the strong, bitter taste. "Ugh!" she cried, disgusted. "It tastes like a cleaning chemical!"

"Want another?" Derek asked, his smirk growing.

"What the hell..." Casey held her glass out and Derek gave her another shot. "This could be fun."

********

Derek threw back his head and laughed at the joke Casey had just made. He knew that it was probably stupid, but he was feeling tipsy and he didn't really care. It was hour later and Casey had ingested three shots. She was _very_ tipsy. He wondered how much she could handle before losing all her inhibitions. Not that he particularly cared.

"Derek, you're crazy!" Casey blurted out of the blue.

"What d'you mean?" he asked.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she was grinning, but he had a feeling that this was a thought that had plagued her often since they'd met so many years ago.

"I don't hate you," he settled with, ruffling her short hair.

"Hey!" she cried, trying to calm it back into its regular bob.

"Anyway, I thought that _you_ were the one who hated _me_," he said.

Casey shook her head vigorously. "I never hated you. I know I said I did a couple of times, but it was never true. There was always a decent guy hidden under all that hockey buff who wore leather jackets."

Derek let the silence linger as he mulled this over. It figured: Casey was the only person on earth who would say something so poetic and enigmatic in an inebriated state of mind.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Hmm?" Derek asked her, raising his gaze to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her dark hair shining, and the setting sun bathed her in golden light. She looked more beautiful than ever, and Derek felt his breath hitch, his pulse quicken.

"You look sad." The words, so simple and yet so loud, provoked him to get up off the floor where they'd been sitting and get another shot. He returned to the ground next to Casey and was about to drink it when she lurched at him in an attempt to grab it for herself. Half of the shot went into her mouth, and the other half dribbled over his shirt.

"Oy," he said, and giggled. "Now I smell like cleaning chemicals," he teased, winking at her.

"You could always take it off," she replied, and Derek started. He was glad he didn't have a drink in his hand anymore because it would have sloshed all over them both.

"Excuse me?" he half-gasped, half-cried.

"Oh for God's sake." Casey rose to her knees and yanked Derek's T-shirt right off of him. Derek fought for control, and he barely managed to find it deep within himself not to—to—

He didn't even know _what_ he was fighting against. All he knew was that he had to fight against it with all his might.

"Are you ok?" Casey's soft voice breathed at his side. He swallowed quickly at the huskiness that lingered in her words. She probably _knew_ the effect she was having on him. She had to know.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, trying to get the shirt back from her. But when he leaned forward, he felt her fingers graze his bare shoulders.

"You have freckles," she whispered, tracing them as though he were a dot-to-dot game. When he jerked back, she came closer, as though nothing in the world was more intriguing to her than his body.

"Well, you have a mole on the side of your neck," he said, as though it was an argument.

"Hmmm," she said, lifting her fingers to trace the tendons on his own neck. "So do you." And then he felt warm, soft lips press against it, and then move down to brush against the freckles that dotted the skin on his shoulders. Derek felt Casey's hands sliding down along the panes of his back, as though his naked torso was the creation of an artist's hand and not just him, regular old Derek Venturi, twenty eight year old nobody. The thought that he could be so fascinating to her, so enticing, sent shivers of longing dancing along his body wherever her skin touched his. Derek felt his eyes flutter close and his lips part as soft gasps came from him. Casey's hands grasped him more tightly as though she yearned for more, and her mouth traced his freckles and moles back up to his neck, to the corner of his jaw and toward his mouth. His breath caught, his heartbeat surged to life, and suddenly the doorbell rang.

They both froze, pulses pounding together, gasping for air that suddenly seemed to have disappeared. When the doorbell rang again, Derek jumped away from Casey and hurried to grab his shirt. As he yanked it back on, he heard Casey's footsteps go toward the door.

"Hi, sweetie," a masculine voice said. Derek spun around and saw a tall man about their age grinning in the doorway. He had short, dark hair and a wholesome face, with boyish good looks.

"H-hi, Tom," Casey replied, voice wobbling slightly. "What-what time is it?"

Tom glanced at his watch. "Seven-thirty. This is when you told me to show up, right?" He looked worried to have intruded.

"Um, yeah… Oh, oh! Yes, that's right! I remember!" Casey's look of panic faded, but only slightly. "Um, can you give me a moment to straighten one last thing up?" she asked. Tom nodded and she closed the door quietly. Then she spun to face Derek.

Great. So he was the "one last thing."

"You need to hide," she hissed, quickly hurrying over to his side and dragging him toward his room.

"Why?" he asked. "Were you expecting Tom tonight?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I forgot."

"You _forgot_?" Derek cried, and Casey shushed him.

"Yes, I forgot! When your obnoxious girlfriend gave me the 411 yesterday, it sort of slipped my mind!" She snorted.

"Sheila gave you the 411? What about?"

"Never mind, Derek, we have more urgent things at hand!"

"Why? Doesn't your boyfriend know that I'm living here?"

"He's not my boyfriend, I'm just dating him. And no, he doesn't know."

"Well, it's the perfect time to figure it out, then, isn't it?"

"I've got to turn this disaster of an evening into something perfect and magical, Derek, and having you around is only going to make it harder." Casey tried to shove him through the doorway to his room, but Derek stood his ground. He placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Look at me," he hissed in annoyance. She sighed, but complied. Her blue eyes were wide and dilated, but whether it was from the vodka or something else, he couldn't tell. "Am I really a disaster?" he finally asked, not sure why he had to know. "You can be honest."

Casey stared up at him for a moment, then sighed again, and said, "Yes… but you're the only disaster I look forward to living through each day."

Derek didn't know what made him do it. One minute he was standing there, staring at her, and then the next he'd cupped her face in his hands and pressed a soft kiss against her mouth. He smiled as he pulled away and drawled, "Right back at you, kid, right back at you."

* * *

**Please review! I love getting feedback. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I know. When it comes to updating, I fail at life. I promise you that I will update regularly until this story is done. I've been very much inspired after my love of LWD was rekindled from watching the movie. I hope you can all forgive me! :)

* * *

Chapter 6

The wine that Tom brought over had gone bad.

"That's so bizarre," he kept saying, "I just bought it last night after work!"

Casey stared at the deep red liquid in her wineglass, swirling it around and around. When she looked up, Tom was busy examining the bottle, neglecting the Chinese stir-fry on his plate.

"Maybe you should take it back," Casey suggested. Her appetite was gone. Her humor dissipated. Nothing else mattered now, except that she had cheated on her boyfriend. But that mattered even less than something else.

After Tom arrived, after the quick kiss, Derek had left. Had disappeared out the door and not come back.

That had been two hours ago. She wondered where he'd gone. Would he even come back?

"Nah, I brought a back-up bottle in case you didn't like this one." Tom rose out of his seat, planted a kiss on Casey's cheek, and added, "It's in my car; I'll be right back."

Casey watched him leave. When the door shut behind him, she felt her body heave, once, twice. All her attempts to repress the tears were in vain; her body shuddered and she started choking on her tears. She couldn't cry, she _couldn't_. Tom was coming back in a minute; she had been drinking, it had been harmless; her feelings for Derek were simply from some bizarre desire for her childhood (surely that was it).

Derek would return.

Getting up from the counter, Casey went into the bathroom and splashed her face with water. The alcohol was making her emotional. That was another reason to add to the list of why she was behaving strangely.

Her reflection stared back at her: mascara was smudged below her eyes, her hair was tangled, her clothes wrinkled. She looked like a mess.

As she straightened herself out, she heard the front door open. Tom was back with the wine. It was time to come out and behave. Sighing, Casey exited the bathroom, planting a smile on her face and heading to the main room.

"Hi, Casey!" said a perky female's voice.

Casey stopped short, her mouth falling open. "Sheila? What are you—"

She froze as Derek entered.

"I thought we could have a nice little double-date," Derek said. He was grinning… grinning like nothing had happened between them. Grinning like she was nothing to him but his keener step-sister. Casey wanted to slap him.

"What do you mean?" she snapped.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Sheila asked.

"He's not my boyfriend officially. And he's out getting some wine from his car."

"Oh, lovely! Derek, we should have brought some wine over, too!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "Why? That stuff's gross." Sheila wrapped her arms around Derek's waist and gazed into his eyes. Casey wanted to gag; she could think of something else that was gross….

The apartment door opened, and Tom burst in with a fresh bottle of wine and a grin spread out on his face. "Hope you like Pinot Noir!" he cried, then he noticed that they weren't alone. "Oh… you have friends over?"

Derek strode over to Tom and held out his hand. "Hi, there, Doctor, I'm Derek, Casey's stepbrother."

Tom gave him a quick smile, "Hi, Derek. Nice to meet you."

"And you, too, sir. It's so good to have a doctor in the family."

"Derek," Casey warned, but he ignored her.

"Casey has such high standards about who she dates, you should consider it an honor to be chosen by her."

Casey forced a laugh that sounded nervous even to her own ears. "All right, Derek, why don't you go set out two more places on the table?" She felt him stare at her for a moment, but she refused to meet his eyes, refused to play whatever twisted game he was playing at.

Casey had never felt so confused in her life. She knew she'd been pretty tipsy, that she'd hit on Derek—okay, _more_ than hit on him, she'd practically tried to seduce him—but she'd thought he'd been sincere with that brief kiss. Now he was acting like she wasn't more than just a stepsister… a _sister_ even. It didn't make any sense. Had he just been messing with her when he'd kissed her? Had he been playing off her—her whatever-it-had-been that had made her want him to want her? Was he still the same jerk from high school after all?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Derek poured another glass of wine. He didn't care for the stuff, but he felt like he needed it. He had no idea why he'd thought bringing Sheila over would be a good idea. He didn't like having to pretend that he still felt attracted to her. He really didn't like seeing how Tom was running his hand up and down Casey's thigh. And he hated how Casey was treating him like the same obnoxious stepbrother he'd been in high school.

She made no sense. One minute she was all over him, making his body shake with a deep-rooted longing for her, yearning to feel her touch, needing to make her his own…. And the next minute she was ushering him out of the room so that she could make this Tom fellow have the very same feelings she'd caused Derek to have.

Derek stabbed his fork into a spear of broccoli, barely even noticing that it was one of his least favorite vegetables. He popped it into his mouth and continued to glare at Casey, daring her to look at him. She couldn't ignore him all evening. He'd get her to notice him.

"Casey, this is delicious," Tom cooed, brushing back a strand of Casey's hair. "You're an excellent cook. Very domestic."

"I'm not domestic," Casey cooed back, although Derek thought her smile looked a little forced. "I just happen to be good at something that was once considered to be part of the woman's job. It in no way means that I'm domestic myself."

Tom looked a little taken aback. "All right, babe, I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I think it's a fine thing for a woman to want to take care of her man," Sheila said, rubbing the back of Derek's neck. He resisted the urge to shove her hand away. Instead he turned to her and flashed a charming smile.

"That's why I'm dating you, hun," he said, and kissed her cheek. Deciding to take Tom's approach, Derek lowered his hand to rest on Sheila's thigh and started caressing her.

"This really is the best Chinese dish I've ever sampled," Tom was saying, "I can't believe you didn't order in from an actual restaurant."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Casey replied. Derek snuck a glance at her from the corner of his eye. She was openly staring at him now. Well, actually, it was at Sheila's thigh. _Good,_ Derek thought viciously. He leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on Sheila's neck, then pulled back.

"Tom," Casey said suddenly, "I'm getting full. Join me on the couch?"

"Uh, sure," replied Tom, seeming a little confused. Derek couldn't help noticing the eager glint in the man's eyes. It was something he recognized: lust. Derek's muscles tensed at the realization, but he was powerless to stop it.

"I think I'm done myself," Sheila purred in Derek's ear, "and since the couch is taken, what say we head to your room?"

"Sure, fine," Derek responded, grabbing her hand and pulling her in the direction of his bedroom. This time, it was he who kept his eyes straight ahead, although he could feel Casey's burning into him and Sheila as they made their way to his room.

It served her right.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Twenty minutes. That was how long it had been since Derek and Sheila had disappeared into his room. Casey wondered how much they could have done in that time, and immediately wished she hadn't. It wasn't a pleasant picture.

"Mmmm," Tom purred into her neck, grinding his body against her own. His hands moved all over her body. Casey felt her breath hitch as his knee pressed against her upper thigh. She felt a little queasy, and hoped he wasn't planning on doing much else with that knee….

His mouth moved away from her neck and found her mouth. As he resumed his kissing, Casey couldn't help but think how sloppy and monotonous he was. He opened his mouth too wide and got spit all over her mouth. His tongue pushed past her lips and Casey had to try not to gag as he explored too far into her mouth. Was he trying to choke her? And _oww_, did his knee hurt against her leg! She wondered if it would bruise.

She thought about how much more fun Sheila was probably having.

A surge of frustration swelled up in Casey's stomach, rising to her chest and out to the tips of her fingers. It was so unfair! She wasn't allowed to feel _any_thing for the man she shared a brother with! It was wrong. And it was unfair that he also happened to be a much better kisser, with a touch both tender and passionate, and could make her body hum with desire. Tom was so disappointing. Every previous boyfriend was a disappointment. What was it about her stepbrother that brought out the different side to her? Why was he able to send her heartbeat into a flutter, to make her skin tingle if he so much as brushed by her in the hallway, to challenge her to remember who she _was_, not who she wanted to be?

It was so. damn. unfair.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Derek," Sheila's voice cooed into his ear, nibbling at his earlobe. Her voice was so high. Casey's had been husky and thick with desire. Sheila just sounded nasaly.

Derek found himself on autopilot as he caressed and kissed and whispered tender nothings in his girlfriend's ear. That's exactly what this was. Nothing.

Nothing compared to how he felt with Casey. All she had to do was _look_ at him and his entire being hummed with an energy that only Casey could create in him. When she'd kissed him earlier… God, that had blown him away in every sense. First and foremost, it had completely dispelled any idea that she thought of him as a brother. That fateful day long ago… she'd either been denying her feelings, or she'd been outright lying to them both. Casey felt the same magnetic attraction to him that he felt to her. It didn't make sense, and maybe it was wrong on some level, but there it was. Stronger than anything else he'd ever felt, with any woman. That brief touch, that flickering feel of her lips against his neck, had jolted him out of reality in a way that no woman had ever done.

The sensation of Sheila's hand tugging off his shirt brought Derek back to the present. He was with Sheila, not Casey. He found himself tugging his shirt off mindlessly, trying to get into this and failing. Sheila was a beautiful woman, but she wasn't Casey. Derek growled inwardly. Here was his girlfriend, hoping to go all the way with him for the first time, and he had to suppress his disgust at her simplest touch.

"Mmmm, Derek," she moaned as her lips met his own. Derek wrapped his arms around her torso as they kissed. But when her hands went to his belt buckle, he pulled away.

"I can't," he said.

She stared at him for a minute. "What?"

"I can't do this with you. I can't be with you anymore." Derek sighed. "It's not fair to either of us."

"What do you mean?" she asked, although he was sure she already knew.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "But I don't have feelings for you."

The confusion in her eyes changed; in its place was a look of anger and betrayal.

Derek gulped; this wasn't going to be good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom's hand was sliding up her stomach to grope her. Casey knew that she shouldn't consider it "groping", but she couldn't help it. That's how it felt. She had to stop this.

"Tom," she began, pulling away from him, "look, I don't think—"

She was cut off by the sound of Derek's door bursting open and Sheila storming from the room. "You bastard!" she shrieked, carrying her shoes in one hand and snatching her purse with the other. "You lying bastard! I knew you had feelings for _her_!" As she enunciated the last word, Sheila snarled at Casey, "You deserve him, you tramp!"

And then she had stormed out, slamming the door as she did so.

Tom looked at Casey. "What was that about?" he asked.

Before Casey could speak, Derek entered the room. "You've gotta go," he said to Tom. "Casey and I need to talk." For a moment, no one spoke. They both just stared at Derek. He was staring straight ahead at the door.

"Derek," Casey spoke up.

"Tom, please leave."

"Derek."

"What's going on?" Tom cried, looking very confused, and a bit upset at having his evening ruined.

"You're about to leave." Derek glared at the dark-haired man.

"Look here, buddy—"

"There's no point in arguing, Tom. Just get out."

"DEREK!" Casey yelled. "I need to talk to you. In private."

"Look, I should probably get going anyway," Tom said, buttoning his shirt and standing up.

Casey just nodded. "Ok, bye, Tom. I'll see you."

"All right…" he said, and left. Casey didn't even notice—or care—if he was upset.

She turned to Derek and opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"Casey, I broke up with Sheila."

Silence. Casey stared up at the man she had come to hold very dear over the years. The man she had developed feelings for (perhaps had had feelings for all along). The only man who knew her better than she knew herself.

She realized what he meant by that simple statement. There was so much more to it, so much left hanging on what she said in response. And suddenly she felt overwhelmed by everything that was going on, but the emotions and feelings and desires that had surfaced since Derek had moved in with her. Casey closed her eyes and tried to ground herself in the rational side she knew was in her somewhere, but she couldn't. Not with Derek standing a few feet away. Not with this magnetic energy pulsing in the air between them.

She took a step back. "Derek, I… I need to sleep. I can't… I think she should talk tomorrow. After I've slept on this. I just need to sleep." Casey had no idea why she had fixated on needing sleep, but it made more sense than anything else she was feeling.

"You… need to sleep?" he asked softly, although underneath the calm question she could tell her words had upset him. He had not expected this answer. She wasn't sure what he had expected, but she knew it wasn't this.

"Yes," she replied. She turned away from him and walked to her room. As she reached her door, something in her compelled her to add, "I'm sorry," before she went in and closed the door shut behind her.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Derek turned the music up louder on his computer. It did nothing to help dissipate his uncertain feelings or chaotic emotions. But at least it helped subdue his thoughts. If he couldn't think about the pain of her easy dismissal of him, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

The door opened suddenly, and there stood Casey, looking very much awake. She said something to him, but he couldn't hear so he pretended to ignore her (in reality, he found himself acutely aware of every movement she made). She said something again, but when he did nothing she stormed over and slammed his laptop shut.

"How am I supposed to sleep when you've got that blasting? It's louder than you ever had your music in high school!"  
"Yeah, well, sorry." Derek made sure he didn't sound sorry at all. "But you deserve it."

"And why do I deserve to lie awake, listening to the garbage that you call music?"

"Because you're more annoying than you ever were in high school!" he spat back, using Casey's own words against her. He braced himself for a verbal attack, but none came. Instead, she sighed and sank down onto his bed. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her picking at a loose thread on his mussed sheets.

"Cut it out," he said, placing his hand on hers to stop her from fidgeting. Her hand felt warm and smooth, and Derek realized that they had both frozen, neither daring to move or to meet the other's eyes. Derek wondered how long they could cling to this moment where it was acceptable to touch, before it would become awkward and forbidden. For the millionth time in his life, he wondered just what made their potential relationship so unacceptable.

The feeling of Casey's hand sliding away from his own brought him back to the scene before him. He noticed that she was rubbing her hand. If hers was as tingly as his own, he didn't blame her.

"Why do you have to make things so difficult?" she whispered, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Me? Make things difficult? That's usually been your job," Derek scoffed.

Huffing, Casey rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious. Did you forget our entire high school years?"

"Not at all. I seem to recall that you were the most obnoxious keener ever." This felt right, returning to the days when their fighting could mask the sexual tension between them. It allowed them to stray away from what they were feeling in the here and now.

"Derek, I may have been a keener, but you were much more annoying than I was." Casey smiled. "You always knew just how to push my buttons, you never failed in pranking—"

What Casey had been about to say, Derek never knew. Before he realized himself what he was doing, he had leaned in and kissed her. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, one to match the tender tugging in his chest that came from the realization that this was all so easy and comfortable. Wasn't that how things were supposed to be with someone you cared about? He thought about how much Casey had always annoyed him. What was it about her that made her get under his skin?

He pulled away, and gave her a smile as he studied her. Her hair was mussed from tossing and turning on her pillow, some of her make-up had smudged onto her cheek, and she had on an old, baggy T-shirt. She had never looked more beautiful to him.

Casey stared back at him, her blue eyes wide. She leaned in a fraction of an inch, and his heartbeat quickened at what might happen next, but suddenly she had jumped off her bed and backed toward the door. "I can't, Derek. We can't. Mom, George… Simon…." The name of the 9-year-old brother they shared brought a grimace to Derek's face. She was absolutely right. This was, in some ways, much worse than Casey saying that a stepbrother and a brother were one and the same. Because this meant that, as much as they both might want something more, it simply wouldn't work. They were too different. They were practically related, for God's sake.

Derek turned away from her and opened his laptop. "Fine," he finally replied, and as soon as he said it a sinking feeling rose in his stomach. Derek waited until he heard his bedroom door close before he plugged his earphones into his laptop, turned his music on, and blasted his music full force.

No matter how loud he made it, it did nothing to block out the full force of his frustration, anger or his tears.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry again for the huge break between updates. By the way, I was originally going to have Tom and Sheila be siblings, but I just didn't like the way that the story progressed, so I re-wrote the chapter without them being related. Trust me, it was SERIOUSLY angsty. This chapter was angsty enough as it is! Lol. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! :)

* * *

**

Chapter 7

"Derek, have you seen my laundry?" Casey called from her bedroom. "I had just folded it, and left it on my bed!"

"Try checking the hallway!" he called back from the kitchen.

"…_What?_" Casey cried, darting out of her room and flinging open the door to the apartment. Various pieces of clothing lay sprawled haphazardly from one end of the hallway to the other. "Oh my _God_, Derek! What did you do?"

He snickered, and she spun around to see him chugging orange juice from the gallon. "What's with you?" she snapped. It had been almost a week since the kiss he'd given her in the middle of the night after he'd broken up with Sheila. Since then he'd started acting just like the boy he'd been when they were in high school. She figured he was pissed at her, but that was his problem.

"Look, Derek, why don't you just act mature about this? I'll—I'll kick you out if you don't stop!" Even to her ears, the statement didn't sound too threatening. They both knew that she wouldn't do that to him, although she could pretend that she would.

"This orange juice is delicious. Would you like some?"

Casey sighed. "Derek, you signed the contract that you wouldn't drink directly out of any of the beverage containers. It's one of the rules."

"You know, Case, I was thinking of joining you and your friends tonight at Hooligan's Bar."

"What? No way. We've been through this before." Casey's friend, Klara, was turning 28 tonight, and had invited Casey and several of their friends out to the local bar to celebrate. Derek had heard the invite on the answering machine and kept insisting that he was going to join them.

"Hmmm, you know, I think I better get ready, it's almost 5 o'clock. It takes time to look this good."

Casey glowered at him, but didn't say anything. If he insisted on going, she'd just ignore him. No problem there. She was almost 28 herself, and with age came maturity. He may have been able to get under her skin when she was 18, but she had grown a lot in the last ten years. It wouldn't be a problem.

At least, she hoped not.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Casey arrived at the bar alone. She'd left a bit early so that she could sneak out without Derek climbing into the passenger's seat beside her. It seemed to have worked. The bar was packed with people, buzzing with excitement and the sexual tension that accompanied any situation that involved alcohol. She could relate to that….

Casey quickly dispelled any images of seducing a certain handsome stepbrother while partially inebriated, and straightened her blue shirt. Her shirt was a simple swoop-neck, and she'd put on nice dark jeans and short heels. She'd chosen her outfit carefully, hoping to appear presentable but respectable.

Making her way to the bar, she noticed that most of her friends had already arrived. They motioned her to the booth they were sitting at.

"Hi, girls! It's great to see—" She stopped abruptly, her jaw dropping. Her stepbrother was sitting in the middle of her group of friends. And he looked amazing. He'd styled his hair back, allowing the full force of his eyes to capture her gaze and hold it. He'd chosen form-fitting black jeans that accented all the right places, and a button-up plaid shirt that seemed like it was meant for him. He had foregone shaving that morning, and the stubble on his jaw gave his face a devil-may-care masculinity. Casey just stared at him, unable to pull her eyes away.

"This is Derek," Klara giggled. "We found him sitting at the bar, and he ordered us all a shot of tequila. There's one for you if you want."

Casey started to refuse it, but then reconsidered. Hell, but she needed it after seeing Derek in this state. As she felt the liquid warm its way down her chest and into her stomach, Casey for the millionth time tried not to remember the last time she'd drunk too much… and what had happened.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. God, but she looked amazing. She'd styled her hair in its glossy, natural waves, and had put just enough make-up on to look seductive. And her clothes… they were classy, but snug in all the right places.

Sure, she refused to meet his eyes. Sure, she wasn't drinking much after that first shot. It made sense. He'd only had a beer himself, since he was driving and because he didn't want to lose control around her… not after she'd rejected him so badly. But just being near her was enough to cloud his senses, to send shivers down his back and raise goose-bumps on his arms. Casey was the most beautiful girl in the bar, the prettiest in the world for all he knew.

"…and then I told him that it was actually a _chicken_, not a _rooster_!" Casey's friend, Klara, giggled into his neck. He smiled down at her and pretended to find this statement hilarious, even though he hadn't heard a thing she'd said. "I'm so glad you invited your stepbrother, Casey," Klara slurred, "he's soooo funny and sexy."

Casey said nothing, but Derek saw her eyes flash at him like this was all his fault. He would never understand her. One day she said that they could never be together, and then when he tried to move on she started acting odd… almost like she was jealous or something. And maybe she was attracted to him (God only knew he found her incredibly hot), but it wasn't fair for him to string him along this way.

"Derek only _wishes_ he was as funny and as sexy as he thinks he is," groaned Casey under her breath, but loud enough that he caught it. Unable to suppress a grin, Derek knew that this was getting to her. And he loved it.

"You have such a nice smile," Klara cooed into his ear, her fingers brushing his thigh. The feeling sent a shiver up his spine, but only because he remember the last person who had done this. And she was sitting a few feet away, glaring at him and huffing with annoyance.

"You have a pretty nice smile yourself," Derek flirted back. Klara was a pretty girl, with sleek, dark hair and almond shaped eyes. He didn't deny it. Besides, it was fun to flirt with her. Especially in front of Casey.

Klara jumped up, caught Derek's hand and tugged at him, purring, "Come with me, it's my birthday, you have to do what I say!"

A few weeks ago Derek would have been drooling over himself to go to bed with a girl as hot as Klara. He didn't know what was wrong with him now.

Scratch that. He knew _exactly_ what was wrong. And she was ruining his fun.

He got up, gave Klara his most smoldering smile, and followed her to wherever she wanted to take him. As she led him out of the bar, he glanced back at Casey. She was staring—no, glaring—at him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her chest. He flashed her his trademark smirk, and disappeared out the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Casey, you're so quiet. Why aren't you happy? You want me to get you a drink?" one of Casey's friends, Leslie, whined.

"No, no. I'm fine. I'm just feeling a little… queasy… is all." It wasn't far from the truth. As soon as Derek had disappeared from the bar with Klara, Casey had felt like puking. That, or hitting something. Preferably Derek.

She knew she was being irrational, that she should be glad that he was back to his usual self instead of trying to kiss her. But she couldn't help feeling furious at him for messing with her emotions like this. It wasn't fair that he could be so cavalier with life (and women), while she felt so ornery. But Casey had long ago learned that life wasn't fair when it came to Derek Venturi.

"Case, why don't I get you some water?" Leslie queried, looking concerned despite being inebriated.

Casey sighed. "Sure. Thanks, Leslie."

As her friend went to retrieve her a glass of water from the bar, one of Klara's friends who Casey didn't know very well turned to her. "Hey, are you ok?"

Feeling taken aback, all Casey could do was blink for a moment. "Oh, I'm fine." She tried to remember the girl's name. She thought it was Rachael.

"It's just that you looked really upset when you saw that guy was at our table. Derek, right?"

"Yeah," Casey swallowed, trying to rid her throat of the sudden pain that had appeared there. She worried that she might start crying. "He's my stepbrother. We used to fight all the time. His dad married my mom when we were 15."

"He kept staring at you." The girl looked at Casey, really examined her. "I think you're in love with each other, but something is keeping you apart."

Who was this girl to make such accusations (for surely, that's what it was) to someone she barely knew? "I'm sorry, but what gives you the right to say something like that?" Casey found herself becoming even angrier. Of _course_ they weren't in love with each other. Attracted, sure. They probably even had feelings for each other. But not _love_.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to step out of bounds or anything," Rachael apologized, picking at the lemon in her drink. "It's just that he seemed to be trying to make you jealous, and you seemed, well, jealous."

"You mean of Klara?" When Rachael nodded, Casey scoffed. "It's her birthday; I want her to be happy. Even if she has to go drunkenly sleep with my stepbrother like some slutty dumbass." Casey gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that? "I mean, I don't think she's a dumbass, or slutty, or—"

But Rachael just smiled, like she understood. "It's a perfectly rational thought for someone who's watching her friend leave with the man she loves."

All Casey could do was stare at her glass. She thought about what Rachael had said. Rachael… who seemed very insightful and observant. She rather liked the girl who was kind enough to make Casey feel better when she felt like she was dragging the party down. She opened her mouth to reply when Leslie returned, a tall man at her elbow.

"Lookie! I found you a present," she giggled.

The man looked like he was in his mid-thirties, and had the appearance of someone who was desperate and slimy. Casey fought back the disgust that threatened to curl her lip. Leslie was just trying to be kind, she couldn't help it if she was too drunk off her ass to realize that she was just making a bad situation worse.

"I think Casey was just mentioning that she wanted to go home," Rachael cut in before the man could say some cheesy pick-up line. Casey shot Rachael a look of gratitude, bid the group goodbye, and headed for the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was well after midnight when Derek got back. The apartment was dark, and he wondered if Casey was asleep. He'd seen her car in the lot, so he knew she was here.

He snuck into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and grabbed his toothbrush. As he brushed his teeth, he couldn't help feeling like he was brushing the acidic, drunken taste of Klara out of his mouth. He couldn't remember why he had liked going home with girls before.

As he spit out his toothpaste, he heard Casey's door open. "Goody," he muttered to himself, knowing that she would probably berate him for his womanizing ways. He wiped his mouth and opened the door.

"You're back early," she said, an eyebrow raised. He knew she was dying to know what had happened with him and her friend.

"Klara no longer had a use for me," he replied, "so I left."

He waited, putting his toothbrush away, but Casey didn't say anything. He brushed past her to his bedroom, thinking it odd that she'd just stood there. It was more than odd, it was unnerving, and he didn't like it.

But she followed him into his bedroom. Moonlight filtered in through his window, so Derek hadn't bothered turning the light on. Casey didn't either. Again, he thought to himself, she was behaving really bizarrely.

"Why do you have so little respect for yourself, Der?" she asked, her tone accusing.

Derek spun on his heel and stared at her slack-jawed. "Excuse me," he snapped, "but _what?_"

"You never tried to get good grades in school. You drank too much in college. And you've slept with so many girls. You have absolutely no respect for yourself."

"I got bad grades because I was an idiot. The same reason I got drunk more than I probably should have. I've learned from my mistakes."

"Not all of them," Casey whispered, taking a step toward him. Derek knew what she meant, what she was assuming and implying.

"Yes, I have. _All_ of them." Derek found her staring up at him, the silver moonlight glinting off her big blue eyes. The sight made him catch his breath.

"You just don't get it, Derek," Casey snapped, "You think that you can just sleep with any woman! That all women are just at your beck and call!" She broke off. "You—you're just a big meanie!"

Derek just stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. "Did you really," he said between chuckles, "just call me a 'meanie'?"

"I'm serious!" Casey cried, although a small smile had snuck onto her face.

"Yeah, but… how can I take you seriously when you're talking like a seven-year-old?"

Casey was laughing now, and although she swatted his shoulder it was in a friendly manner. "Fine, fine. I suppose my credibility was shot as soon as I said that."

Derek chuckled. "You could never lose your credibility, Casey. You're too much of a keener." He mused, "You're just too damn smart!"

At this statement, Casey smiled. "You know, I think that's the first time you've called me smart."

"What?" Derek placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. "I call you smart all the time!"

But Casey shook her head, the smile still teasing at the corner of her lips. "No, you call me 'keener'. It's more of an insult."

"You always knew what I meant."

"Well, I certainly do now," Casey assented, and she placed her hand on his cheek for a moment to show him her gratitude. "And… thanks, D."

As Casey's hand started to slip from his skin, Derek reached up and grabbed it in his hands. He stared down at her, mesmerized by the way the moonlight streaked her hair silver, how her eyelashes cast small shadows on her cheek, how her lips had parted in surprise—eagerness—confusion—he didn't know which. All he knew was that he _loved_ her. His keener stepsister. The girl who had made his teenage youth one annoying hell of a ride, and had continued to plague him throughout their older years with the honest concern and care she bestowed on him. This was the only woman he had ever loved.

"Derek, we can't—" But Derek put a finger on his lips.

"I didn't sleep with Klara."

This stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes grew huge, the blue shimmering before him and trapping him in her gaze. He heard her slight intake of breath, saw her lift her hand, felt her fingers curl in his hair. It was all he could do to stay still, to let her make the decision, take the first step. He wanted to close the gap between them, completely and forever, but he waited.

"I—I—" she didn't seem to know what to say, and all the while her mouth was drawing closer to his own, her lips parting even more, her eyes closing.

Derek felt his own eyes start to flutter closed as he felt her breath on his skin, smelling of mint and chocolate and caramel. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him.

And then Casey's cell phone rang. Derek thought he recognized the special ring tone.

It was the same one that played when Tom called her.

* * *

**A/N: Muah ha ha. A cliffhanger ending. Hehehe. Don't worry, I will be updating soon! :)**


End file.
